The Field Remembers

[Verse 1]
Four generations, my name on the deed,
Dad’s hands on the plow, his dad’s on the seed.
Every fence post holds a year we can’t forget,
And I can walk this ground like the pages of a book.

[Chorus]
This farm knows our names, knows the stories we sowed,
In the furrows, the fences, the long country roads.
When I stand in these fields, I can hear them still—
Four generations in the dirt of this hill.

[Verse 2]
That crooked post by the creek took Grandpa’s brand,
The north field remembers Mom waving her hand.
There’s a patch where we laughed through a hard July rain,
And a gate that still swings with the sound of our names.

[Bridge]
The deed may be paper, the roots run much deeper—
A home held together by the hands of its keepers.

[Outro]
I’ll leave my name here when my time is through,
And a field full of stories for the next ones to know.